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‘Why does my name sound like an epithet when you say it in full?’ he asked curiously.
‘It’s better than some epithets I could use!’
‘So you still dislike me?’
She shrugged. ‘I’m not crazy about you, I admit. Though Julia told me you weren’t really to blame for what happened. I know you were in love with her once, of course, but that was nothing new. Most men she met fell in love with her. I just wish she’d married any one of them instead of Max Seymour.’
‘Does she still feel the same way about him?’ asked Nick soberly.
‘We don’t discuss Max, but I’m pretty sure she does. Though how she can still love him utterly mystifies me. If a man treated me like that I’d either murder him or forget he ever existed.’
‘No grand passion for you, then, Cassie?’
‘No way. I’m not the type.’ She shrugged. ‘I quite fancy Rupert, but I don’t see him as something permanent in my life.’
Nick got to his feet, yawning. ‘I’ll withdraw to your bathroom, then I’d better call a cab.’
‘I’ll make some coffee first,’ she said, jumping up.
‘What a saint you are, Cassandra,’ he mocked, and breathed in deeply to steady himself as he followed her from the room.
Cassie went out to fill Meg’s expensive Italian machine with the Blue Mountain coffee she’d bought to impress Rupert. While it was brewing she washed up quickly, obeying the golden rule of the house. No dirty dishes left until next day. At last she filled tall mugs with fragrant dark coffee, and put them on a tray with cream and sugar.
Cassie nudged the sitting-room door open with her knee, then gave a sigh of pure frustration, mentally kicking herself for taking so long. Nick Seymour was stretched out on the sofa, fast asleep.
Cassie muttered something rude under her breath, put the tray down on the table and did her best to rouse Nick from a sleep so deep it looked like a coma. And it might just as well have been for all the good it did when she tried to wake him. In the end she gave up, bone-weary herself by this time. She took the tray back into the kitchen, gulped down some of her coffee and went upstairs to borrow a blanket and a double quilt from Hannah, who was skiing with Meg in Gstaad. Cassie eased Nick’s shoes from his long, chilly feet, put a cushion under his head and tucked the blanket and quilt round his sprawled, relaxed body, careless of whether she disturbed him. But Nick slumbered on, vanquished by a combination of jet-lag and stress topped off by a good dinner and three glasses of unaccustomed wine.
‘Sweet dreams,’ said Cassie, resigned, and turned out the light.
CHAPTER THREE
CASSIE surfaced next morning to find a scantily clad Polly shaking her awake.
‘You’re nuts, Cassie Lovell,’ her friend stated, eyes dancing, and perched on the bed. ‘What’s the point of wining and dining this Rupert person if you make him sleep on the sofa?’
‘Oh, heavens,’ gasped Cassie, the events of last night flooding back in full flow. ‘He’s still there?’
‘Sleeping like a babe. Though more sexy pirate than baby.’ Polly rolled her eyes. ‘I can see why you were so steamed up about getting him to yourself, ducky. Why on earth did you banish him to the sofa?’
‘I didn’t,’ said Cassie tersely, scrambling out of bed. ‘He fell asleep while I was making coffee.’
‘Oh, bad luck,’ said her friend with sympathy. ‘Was Rupert tired after a long day at the bank or something?’
‘No.’ Cassie shrugged on her dressing gown. ‘The man downstairs isn’t Rupert.’ She chuckled wickedly as Polly’s mouth fell open. ‘His name is Dominic Seymour—ducky. He’s my sister’s brother-in-law, but never mind that, I’ll explain later. And put some clothes on, Polly. A good thing Nick didn’t wake up if you barged in on him like that. He’s been working abroad without a drink or feminine company for a couple of months.’
‘How scrummy—I wish I’d known!’ said the irrepressible Polly, dodging the pillow Cassie hurled at her.
After a short interval in the bathroom, Cassie rushed back to her room to drag a brush through the tousled ringlets, then, ignoring Polly’s entreaties to tell all, she raced downstairs as she was, shivering in her striped pyjamas and old blue dressing gown. She turned the heating up and went into the sitting-room to find Nick still out for the count, his mouth open slightly, but not snoring. It was the only point in his favour. The growth of black stubble along his jaw had grown thicker overnight—Polly wasn’t far wrong with her pirate description. ‘Sleeping like a babe’ was hardly applicable. There was nothing helpless about Nick Seymour, awake or asleep.
Cassie shook him ungently and tried to pull the covers off, but Nick muttered ominously and held on like grim death, refusing to wake. With a sigh of exasperation Cassie went over to the windows and drew back the curtains on a sunny, frosty morning, the bright light doing more to penetrate Nick’s consciousness than all her shaking. He sat up suddenly, blinking like an owl as he saw Cassie standing over him, arms folded and a militant expression on her face.
‘The usual line is “where am I?”,’ she informed him tartly.
Nick shot to his feet, shivering, and rubbed his jaw in distaste. ‘I know where I am, Cassie, but why the hell am I still here?’
‘It wasn’t my choice, believe me,’ she assured him. ‘But when you sleep, you certainly sleep, Dominic Seymour. I couldn’t rouse you last night so I left you there. I hoped you’d wake up in the night and tactfully take yourself off. Instead you gave one of my fellow tenants a nasty shock this morning.’
He grimaced. ‘Sorry. I’ll apologise later. At the moment I need a bathroom. I don’t suppose you’d have a spare toothbrush?’
‘Polly might. I’ll find out.’
Polly, now fully dressed in skin-tight leather trousers and a curve-hugging ribbed sweater, was happy to oblige. ‘Always keep one for emergencies, pet,’ she said cheerfully, rummaging in a drawer. ‘Would Bluebeard like to borrow a razor, too, while I make breakfast?’
Nick accepted both offerings from Cassie with gratitude, and came downstairs later, hair relatively tidy and his jaw clean-shaven. Despite his rumpled clothes, he looked a lot better, and to the impressionable Polly obviously very fanciable indeed.
‘Hi, I’m Polly Cooper,’ she informed him jauntily. ‘Want some coffee?’
‘Nick Seymour,’ he returned, with a dazzling smile. ‘I’m told I gave you a shock earlier. My apologies.’
Polly assured him she’d suffered no ill effects.
Cassie took her eyes off the toast under the grill. ‘Want some breakfast, Nick?’
‘If you don’t think I’ve trespassed too much on your hospitality already,’ he said wryly, sitting at the table.
‘A few minutes more won’t matter, I suppose,’ said Cassie. She put the toast rack on the table and handed him a sales-slip from the well-known source of the previous night’s dinner. ‘I’m sure you’ll enjoy breakfast more if you settle up for this.’
‘Cassie!’ remonstrated Polly in horror. ‘You’re not making him pay for his dinner?’
‘Why not? It was meant for Rupert,’ said Cassie, filling three coffee mugs. She pushed the butter towards Nick.
‘I ruined her evening, so she’s entitled to make me pay. Though I think it’s for more than just dinner,’ added Nick, looking Cassie in the eye.
‘I was joking,’ she muttered, and snatched the sales-slip back.
Nick looked unconvinced. ‘Right. I’ll just finish this and be on my way. I need a bath and a change of clothes before I pick up Alice.’
‘Will you come back for me?’ asked Cassie.
‘Is that what you want?’
Polly looked on in fascination as the two pairs of eyes locked, one pair dark-rimmed blue, still shadowed with fatigue, the other pair oval, the velvety brown irises surprisingly dark below the fair hair.
Cassie nodded. ‘I’ve got something to suggest. So if you get back here in an hour it should give us time to talk before fetching Alice.’
Nick glanced at his watch, then finished his coffee quickly. ‘I’ll get off, then. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
‘Wow!’ said Polly after Nick had gone. ‘Why have you never mentioned him before?’
Polly was a recent addition to the household. Knowing she wouldn’t let it rest, Cassie gave her the bare bones of her acquaintance with Dominic Seymour, leaving out the fact that he was in some way to blame for the break-up of Julia’s marriage. And when Cassie added the worry of the night before over Alice, Polly was full of sympathy.
‘Poor little thing. You’d think her father could have got home in time for Christmas.’
‘He may do yet—still four days to go.’
‘And what happens in the meantime?’ demanded Polly. ‘Will this housekeeper person look after her? Or does Nick have a girlfriend likely to lend a hand?’
‘No idea, on both counts. I hope we can sort something out later. Whatever happens,’ added Cassie firmly, ‘I’m going to see Alice this morning, let her know there are people who care about her.’
When Nick returned later, dressed in a cream twill shirt and heavy navy sweater with thick-ribbed cords and a fleece-lined suede jacket, he looked considerably better.
‘Polly’s gone shopping,’ said Cassie, letting him in. ‘Jane, another friend you haven’t met yet, stayed overnight with the boyfriend, so we’ve got the place to ourselves for a bit. We need to talk.’
‘I know.’ He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on a peg in the hall with a familiarity Cassie noted with disapproval. She didn’t want Nick Seymour to feel he was part of the scene in the house. This was her territory.
‘I’ll get the coffee. You can resume your former place on the sofa,’ she said firmly. ‘Won’t be a moment.’
When she returned with a tray Nick was eyeing the arrangement Cassie had finally achieved with Rupert’s flowers.
‘From your merchant banker,’ he commented.
‘Lovely, aren’t they?’ She put the tray down on the table beside them and handed Nick a mug. ‘Sugar? Milk?’
‘No, thanks.’
Cassie waved him to the sofa and curled up in her usual chair. During Nick’s absence she’d showered and dressed in a white shirt and russet wool sweater with a short tweed skirt. She wore thick, patterned wool tights and gleaming chestnut leather boots, and a broad brown velvet ribbon did its best to restrain her hair.
Nick eyed the result with unconcealed approval. ‘Are you meeting Rupert today?’ he asked.
‘No.’ Though Cassie had hoped to.
Nick got up restlessly, losing interest in Rupert. ‘Cassie, I’m hellish worried. There’s no news of Max, and Christmas is only four days away. I’ll move into the house in Chiswick, of course, but it’s going to be grim for Alice with just the two of us, poor kid.’
Cassie frowned. ‘Isn’t there a woman in your life these days?’
‘Several I could ask out for the evening.’ Nick’s mouth twisted. ‘But no one likely to help entertain a little girl.’
She nodded, unsurprised. Nick had never been short of female company, but in the past he’d been attracted more to social butterflies than earth mothers. ‘In that case I’ve a plan to put forward. I made a couple of phone calls this morning as a contingency plan, in case there was no news of Max.’
Nick sat down again, his eyes intent. ‘I’m grateful for any suggestion, Cassie, believe me.’
‘First I rang Julia, then I rang my parents and explained the situation.’
‘Their opinion of Max must be at a new low, then,’ said Nick bitterly.
‘Their concern was all for Alice.’ Cassie brushed back a stray, escaping curl. ‘My father is driving up from Gloucestershire to collect Julia and Emily today. Julia’s staying at home in Chastlecombe until the New Year. I’m joining them on Christmas Eve.’ She looked at Nick searchingly. ‘Alice could go back with them, spend Christmas at home with all of us. If you agree.’
His eyes blazed with such gratitude Cassie was dazzled. ‘It’s not up to me to agree or not. But I think it’s a fantastic idea.’ He paused, sobering quickly. ‘I’d have done my best for her, but she’d be so much better off with your mother and that cute little cherub of Julia’s. And if Max objects, what the hell?’ He breathed in a deep sigh of relief. ‘Cassie, you don’t know what a load you’ve taken off my mind.’
‘And you’ll be free to keep to your own plans, of course,’ she said, rather pointedly.
Nick’s jaw tightened. ‘My “plans”, as you put it, involve a couple of days on my own in a hotel near Worcester, booked before I went to Saudi.’
Cassie stared at him in surprise. ‘In that case Alice will definitely be better off with the rest of us in Chastlecombe.’ She jumped to her feet. ‘I’ll ring home now and tell them you approve—’
‘Would you mind if I spoke to your mother personally, to thank her?’ he put in. ‘Or do your parents regard me as the villain of the piece?’
‘No. That’s Max’s role,’ she assured him, then smiled suddenly. ‘Don’t tell her I told you, but Mother always had a soft spot for you, anyway.’
‘That’s music to my ears. I’m glad someone does,’ he said morosely. ‘You weren’t exactly friendly last night—nor Julia.’
‘Did you expect us to be?’
‘I make it a rule, Cassie, to expect as little as possible. It saves disappointment,’ he said bitingly, then looked at her very directly. ‘It’s a long time since I was in love with Julia, no matter what you think, but she’s still someone I regard as very special. It was painful to see her in those circumstances last night. It hit me for six.’
‘I could tell!’ She picked up her large leather satchel bag. ‘Right. Here’s my address book. The number’s on the first page, with Julia’s.’
Cassie went into the kitchen with the tray, leaving Nick to talk to her mother—a conversation which obviously went well judging by his reluctance to hand over the receiver for her to confirm arrangements with her delighted parent.
‘Mother’s so relieved,’ she told Nick as they got in the car. ‘She’s been worrying like mad over Alice’s Christmas anyway. She went up like a rocket when she heard what happened last night.’ She paused. ‘Are we taking things for granted, Nick? We’ve been busy making arrangements on Alice’s behalf, but we haven’t consulted her in any way.’
‘If she doesn’t like the idea, I’ll cancel my hotel booking and stay in Chiswick with her,’ said Nick promptly. ‘Whatever Alice decides, I’m grateful for your help, Cassie.’
‘I’ve done nothing much—’
‘On the contrary. You’ve organised everything, me included. This team you support is damn lucky.’
When they reached the house in Chiswick, Nick rang the doorbell. ‘I’d like to hang on to the key,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t want another scare like last night.’
The door was opened by a young woman dressed in jeans and jersey.
‘Hello, Janet,’ said Nick, smiling, and her pleasant face lit up with relief.
‘Good morning, Mr Seymour. Sorry I worried you by making off with Alice last night, but my fiancé was coming home on leave from the Army, and I wanted to be there when he arrived.’
‘Don’t apologise, Janet. I’m just grateful you took care of Alice,’ he assured her.
‘She’s ever so worried about her dad,’ she whispered.
‘I am too,’ he admitted, and introduced Cassie.
‘It’s so nice to meet you at last,’ said Janet, ushering them inside. ‘I’ve heard such a lot about you from Alice.’
Suddenly there was the sound of flying feet and a small figure came hurtling down the stairs to throw herself at Nick, who leapt up to meet her halfway and picked her up, giving her a smacking kiss on both cheeks.
‘Uncle Nick,’ cried Alice Seymour, burying her face in his neck. ‘Daddy hasn’t come home.’
‘I know, poppet. But he will, don’t you worry. In the meantime, look who I’ve brought to see you.’
